


The Right Move

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [65]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-23
Updated: 2006-01-23
Packaged: 2018-02-06 04:01:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1843588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their own home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Move

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> To Alex, Ula, and Nerowill, my friends and betas extraordinaire.

  
[Sue](mailto:suechosethis@gmail.com)'s beautiful manip

A smiling Quinn got off the phone with his parents. "Thought they'd need a little more convincing, but they actually like the idea of us buying a house together. Apparently, my cousin Wendy has been talking to them about tax deductions." He high-fived the pleasantly surprised Ian. "It's a good thing they know I can't afford it on my own."

Ian grinned, reminded that the Mastersons still lived in the apartment where Quinn had grown up, rent-controlled since 1970. "Yeah, desperation always helps."

Quinn started to chuckle. "You should have heard Dad. He sounds just like your brother now with his deductibles."

"Monty'll be thrilled to hear that. Who knew that economics was the answer all along? Home Ec is not exactly our specialty."

Quinn's groan was swallowed by Ian's kiss.

* * *

And so their weekends for the next couple of months were filled with the ups and downs of househunting. They wanted to stay within a fifteen mile radius of the university, in deference to upstate New York's harsh winters. When Quinn had commuted from Ian's apartment in New Jersey to Luke, the hour trip had frequently taken twice that, what with snow and the consequent delays.

Price range and practicality led them to focus on two bedroom/two bath houses. Quinn wanted a large, fenced backyard; his dogs, who he and Ian visited often at his old neighbor's house, would be coming to live with them, with Mrs. Kitt's blessing. Both men wanted a living room fireplace since so many of their favorite memories were centered around the hearth.

From Williamsburg to Wayfarers' Inns, Echo Ski Lodge to Ian's childhood home, they'd spent many a passionate and playful moment by the fireside. They wanted to have that bone-deep comfort at home, on every chilly day, not just on vacation. Quinn could still feel his flannel pajamas warming under the checked quilt in their colonial cocoon, Ian's hands heating his skin more than the fire; Ian's thighs warm under his cheek when he'd dozed on Ian's lap in Hotham, heat seeping into his pores from Ian's legs and the depth of the flames.

Of course, their fireplace and yard requirements made it more difficult to find just the right home for them. They started out on the internet, clicking on all the available places in the area that met their standards, mostly older ranches and Cape Cods. Many a virtual tour later, they found a few possibilities.

Lara Sui, their broker, was a tall, slim, and expensively dressed woman in her fifties who came recommended by Jo. She showed them around the leafy villages tucked into their little bit of the world. She also handled the sale of their condos, for which they had prospective buyers within the month. They made the sale contingent upon their purchase of a house so they didn't have that hanging over them.

The biggest problem with some of the older homes was that the owners had slapped on a coat of paint and hoped for the best, despite antiquated heating and plumbing systems that would cost thousands to upgrade.

On one of their tours to a village called Alder Run, a mere twelve minutes from Luke, a little brick ranch caught their eye. Built in the Sixties but recently renovated, it was utterly charming with its blue shutters, slate roof, one car garage separated from the neighboring property by a retaining wall, big front and back yards graced with mature trees, both fenced. Inside, there was a living room with a stone fireplace, a den just wide enough for their two oversized desks, a light-filled kitchen with maple cabinets that could fit a table for four, important since there was no dining room, a hallway which led to two spacious bedrooms, one with a bath, the other bathroom off the hall.

In short, it was just what they wanted and needed. They made a bid that day, and after a week of negotiations, their sweetened offer was accepted. Then it was Monty's turn to go to work, determining which mortgage was most advantageous in their new tax bracket, and what their down payment should be.

Monty himself was a bit envious; he and Kathy had been living in Manhattan for a decade now, and sometimes dreamed of giving Lelia just this kind of environment. However, they both worked in the city and were spoiled by the varied culture and cuisine that you just couldn't get anywhere else.

Details hammered out over espressos made with Kathy and Monty's engagement gift, the men minimized their spreadsheets and put their laptops on standby. Exuding the satisfaction of new homeowners, the professors thanked their brother and said their goodbyes at the door.

"It's really gonna happen, innit?" Quinn said, arms going around Ian's waist to grip the back of his belt.

"Bank permitting." Ian nuzzled his way under the collar of Quinn's shirt.

Luckily, Quinn had the perfect way to take Ian's mind off business.

* * *

The next step was getting their mortgage approved, which turned out to be no problem since they dealt with the same bank that had handled their condo purchases.

They'd miss having two home offices and extra storage space, but not as much as making love on the terraces. No more frozen yogurt or macchiatos on Landowe's main street either. But Alder Run had its own charms: they'd already found a luncheonette where they could get milkshakes fresh from the blender in an oversized stainless steel cylinder, as well as a little Italian place that made the best pesto.

Their new neighbors were an elderly couple to their left and fellow newlyweds to their right. They'd already been invited over for dessert by the retirees, and graciously accepted.

Closing was scheduled for December 29th, to give them a tax advantage for that year. The Mastersons had offered to pay the closing costs in a typically generous gesture. They'd also helped out on Quinn's first car and apartment.

Packing would be harder than for their previous move because they had that much more paper, books, and just plain stuff accumulated over the two years since then. Luckily, Keith and Monty had volunteered to help.

Jessica, Case's secretary, had given Ian a stockpile of flattened Xerox boxes that she'd saved for just such occasions. Their spare time was spent knee deep in those boxes, magic markers temporarily more popular than red pens for the all-important room labels.

A problem came up when Quinn and Ian both wanted to pack the books, and neither felt like dealing with their clothes. They settled it with a game of Scrabble. Ian won handily, so he ended up with the coveted task.

Ian decided to inventory their books as well, and found to his own surprise that they had eight hundred hardcovers scattered throughout their many cases. Since the majority of their texts were at Luke, either there had been some promiscuity within those shadowed shelves or their weekend expeditions to area bookstores had been a bit too successful.

Ian had allowed himself an indulgence since they'd gotten married -- a new set of bookplates with both of their names printed on them in gothic script. The illustration was a line drawing, brown strokes upon a cream background, of a medieval monk writing an illuminated manuscript beside a mullioned window.

He glued on the plates while tallying the books; it had taken him six sessions to do them all. Ian chuckled after the last one; perhaps he'd have a talk with his mother about using the Dewey Decimal system next time instead of their haphazard alphabetizing. 

Monty, meanwhile, was engaged in a pitched battle in the kitchens. For every dish he packed, two more appeared to replace it. Jo and Kathy had been quietly supplementing the professors' motley assortment of plates and pots, a spartan miscellany which showed a fine masculine disregard for pattern and aesthetics. An occasional chuckle was heard over the din of pottery thunking and metal clanking, as Monty remembered his own bachelor days.

Keith was taking down the pictures and placing them between corrugated cardboard sheets for transport. He smiled as he saw one in Quinn's office that evoked a particularly lovely memory -- the seven of them in a formal pose for the Captain's Night on their cruise. They all looked so happy, the three couples embracing, Lelia squirming in her mother's arms.

Quinn tackled the closets under protest, thankful that neither of them had a deep wardrobe. They tended to be utilitarian about clothing -- a few suits, about twenty short- and long-sleeved shirts apiece, tailored slacks, lived-in jeans, workout clothing, mostly unused pajamas, and a goodly amount of underwear and socks.

Quinn left the hangers in and covered the clothes with plastic in groups of twenty for ease of carrying. He used the underwear and socks as additional padding for the breakables. When Ian came in to get the books on the nightstands, he picked up a sock ball on the bed and threw it over to Quinn at the closet door. Ian ran over to the window and they started an impromptu pitching contest. Somehow that little respite made the rest of the work go faster.

Monty and Keith left soon afterwards, which was just as well since Quinn had found something in Ian's closet he hadn't seen before -- a pair of Levi's that must've dated from Ian's Jedai days. More white than blue from years of washing, Quinn could see they were smaller than his usual jeans.

Quinn held them up when Ian came into the bedroom, a sparkle in his eye that always presaged their most delectable loveplay. Ian first saw that look, then focused on the jeans, instantly understanding Quinn's drift. He walked over to Quinn and brushed lips with him lightly, taking them from Quinn's unsteady hand. Ian vanished into the bathroom, door firmly closed.

When he came out, it was lucky Quinn was sitting down. Ian was wearing Levi's and nothing else. Soft cotton kissed each angle and curve, just as Quinn ached to do. Ian walked over to the bed, a swagger in his step that he only displayed privately for his husband.

Quinn growled, pulling Ian to him by the belt loops. He suckled hungrily at Ian's chest and stomach, trying to ease his hands under the waistband. A tight fit, but that made it all the sweeter. Now Ian's hips were thrusting towards him urgently, impelling Quinn to drag that zipper down. He had to be careful because Ian had known better than to leave on his briefs. A bare second later, Ian was engulfed in Quinn's mouth, left hand blindly tugging on Quinn's zip. A groan which grew in volume as he freed Quinn told Ian that he had succeeded. Mouth and hand found a natural rhythm that they sustained as long as possible until they couldn't prolong it any more.

Ian sagged against Quinn's thighs, which were dampening quickly, his belly tickled by Quinn's hair.

Quinn grabbed Ian's denim-clad cheeks possessively. "We're not giving these to charity, lad," he whispered over sensitized skin.

"Not a chance."

* * *

Quinn had scheduled the charity pickup for Wednesday. The last vestiges of Ian's undergrad wardrobe went out the door with a wave of the volunteer's hand, with the exception of one very well loved pair of jeans.

Ian had rented a mid-sized truck for the day, and they started the move at 8 on Thursday morning. Ian's teak furniture, their couches, and the king-sized bed were the most trouble to budge, and needed all four men plus a handcart that came with the truck to transport.

Kathy had left Lelia with her mother that day so she and Jo could get the new place set to rights. Even if it were nominally ready for them, the women knew that deep cleaning was easiest when there was no clutter to hinder it. So before one book crept in, they did a thorough job on the floors, cabinets, and closets.

The men were driving up when Jo brought the last garbage bag to the curb. Providentially, they'd found out after the move was scheduled that trash would be picked up the next day. Ian tapped the horn lightly, prompting cheers from the men in the truck and the ladies on the sidewalk.

Unpacking the essentials took much less time than packing them had, and with six people working, it only took a few hours until they had an up and running household.

Keith ordered two pizzas from a local trattoria, not forgetting to ask for mushrooms on one of them for his boys. Quinn had brought along some Guinness, the perfect temperature by now, to complete the meal. What were a few more breakables, after all? They dug in greedily, ravenous from their hard work.

Three slices later, Quinn scraped the last of the cheese from his paper plate with his forefinger and licked it clean. They had never stood on ceremony, especially when eating takeout. Looking up at his family, Quinn said, "Thank you for all your help," which Ian quickly seconded.

A couple of smiles, nods, and a 'No problem' later, a creaky group got up to go home. Jo caught Keith's eye and grinned, thinking of the surprise house-warming party they had planned for next weekend. Monty volunteered to return the truck, while Kathy picked up Lelia at Grandma's. The men did a perfunctory clean-up, then headed off to bed, steps heavy with exhaustion.

They'd picked the bedroom with windows overlooking the backyard and set that up first, leaving most of the boxes in the guest bedroom, nominally Ian's for the Mastersons' consumption. They sank into the comfort of their flannel sheets, snuggling into their familiar bed, adrift in the wilds of a new town. The safety lights shone in at a different angle, creating restless shadows on the walls. Leaves rustled in the night breeze, their scent kissing the air currents.

Too tired to do more than cuddle, they petted skin sweaty from exertion, hands finding sweet spots without conscious thought. They fell asleep between one kiss and the next, blissful in each other's arms, despite their new surroundings.


End file.
